


Entangled

by WildwingSuz



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwingSuz/pseuds/WildwingSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Facing each other after the tense, emotional standoff in the office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to the story Intertwined by Susan, which appears to no longer be online. When and if I can find it, I will post the link here.  
> Used with permission.
> 
> When I first read the story “Intertwined” by Susan I was deeply impressed at how perfectly it flowed from the actual episode; it’s a rare writer who can do that so seamlessly. I immediately sent the story to my partner-in-crime Alia and within minutes I got this reply: “You are going to write a NC-17 follow-up to this, right?” Well, the same idea had occurred to me so I immediately wrote to Susan, who so kindly gave her permission for me to continue hers and take it one step further.  
> I can only hope mine is half as good as hers.
> 
> Spoilers: This is a direct sequel to Susan’s story Intertwined, which is a direct sequel to the episode Never Again. 
> 
> I can never thank my beta readers enough, Cory who pushes and challenges me as a writer while correcting my “I’m too damn busy writing to worry about grammar” mistakes, and Alia who knows these characters well enough to point out when I have them do something boneheaded or, even better, well in character. Cliché as it sounds and no matter how many times I say it, I mean it when I say I couldn’t do this without them—esp. this particular story that I wanted to be as good as we could get it.

Entangled  
By Suzanne L. Feld  
Rated NC-17 

 

I couldn’t believe I’d not only pushed Scully so far verbally but also touched her against her will and with no warning—kissed her, actually. As kisses go it hadn’t been much, lasting only seconds, but I was sure I had gotten my message across: I know that you want me as much as I want you. Now the ball was in her court.

Normally I was much more respectful of her personal space—or at least I tried to be—so I was somewhat aghast that I had let myself lose my temper and grab her like that. Still, her stubborn obstinacy regarding how she felt about me frustrated the living hell out of me; her clear, nostril-flaring defiance was magnificent and exasperating. Nothing turned me on faster these days than Scully arguing back as her eyes told me differently, standing up to me even as it aggravated me to the point where I could have put my fist through the wall.

This afternoon I had opened my heart to her and while she couldn’t do the same for me verbally, I had seen the desire in the depths of her eyes despite her denials and heated counter-arguments. This unnamable, overwhelming thing between us was ripe, so ripe it was about to burst. I didn’t know if I could go on working with her day after day with it hanging between us like a dark cloud about to explode with lightning in all directions, not caring who it damaged—or when.

God, I could not forget the sweet, delicious taste of her lips; the feel of her stiff yet soft body against mine so briefly and her hair like raw, combed silk beneath my fingers; how her tongue had tentatively met mine in that millisecond before I had realized that I either had to break the kiss or I was going to take her right there on the desk. I had bolted like a scared schoolboy; I only hoped that I hadn’t come across like one.

How long could I wait before I called her or went to her apartment to confront her, I wondered. I was pretty damn sure she didn’t want to see me, but I didn’t want to go into the office tomorrow morning like nothing had happened. It would be even more awkward and uncomfortable than it’d been earlier today when I’d slipped up and almost admitted to her that I thought that her life was as much mine as hers.

As I drove home I felt the righteous, angry fire go out of me to be replaced with icy tendrils of dread. Had I fucked up past the point of redemption? If I’d been wrong about what I’d seen in her eyes would it mean the end of our partnership? Hell, even if I was right, having called her on it so that she knew I knew, would that be the end of our any relationship between us for her? 

There were no parking spaces in front of my building so I had to park around the corner; that did not improve my temper. As I was unlocking the door I heard the phone ringing, but it had stilled by the time I got inside and there was no message on the machine. It had probably been Scully, I thought darkly as I threw my suit jacket uncaringly on the arm of the couch, and now she probably thought I was avoiding her. My cell was off but I didn’t feel like pulling it out and turning it on; right this moment I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even her, though I knew that would change soon enough.

I wasn’t hungry but there were the remnants of a six-pack of Michelob in the fridge and that appealed to me. Carrying an unopened beer between my arm and body I rolled up my sleeves as I went back into the living room, then yanked off my tie and unbuttoned the two top buttons of my shirt, kicking off my shoes by the end of the couch. Cracking the beer I sat down and took a long, cold swig, finally letting out a tired sigh. I considered a shower or changing and going for a run, but had the energy for neither. Sitting here getting drunk was just the ticket, however, as it didn’t take much. Three beers wouldn’t quite do it, but maybe with enough of a buzz on I’d work up the guts to call her, I thought darkly. Since when did it take Dutch courage to call my partner? Jesus, how had it come to this?

My gloomy musings were interrupted by a knock on the front door, a knock I knew very well; it wasn’t my only other visitors, the Gunmen. It was Scully. I froze for a moment, heart clenching in my chest, then stood and took a deep breath. I paused before walking over there, giving myself a moment to calm my racing heart and breathing.

When I opened the door she was standing looking down at the set of keys in her hand, sorting them, so that I was looking at the top of her head. She was still wearing her work clothes, the charcoal suit and white blouse, and heels. “Hey,” I said in a neutral voice as if it were just any other day, then stepped back as she looked up at me, glaring like I was one of the worst murderers we’d ever dealt with. “Uh, come in?” I said, still holding onto the edge of the door.

She stomped past me without a word as she stuffed her keys in her blazer pocket, clearly furious and ready to dance. As I closed the door I felt my temper rise in response; my earlier depression was swallowed by it. But before she could say anything, I added quickly, “Want a beer?”

To my surprise she nodded, still not looking at me. “I didn’t see your car when I pulled up,” she said as I went in the kitchen.

“No spaces out front, I had to park on the next block,” I called back. I noted that my hand was shaking slightly as I opened the refrigerator door, and angrily steadied it. 

She did not affect me like this.

My hand didn’t tremble when I reached in and got the second-to-last bottle out and then closed the door, taking a deep breath and bracing myself for whatever was to come. See, I could do this. I could face her like a calm, rational adult and not a hormone-driven teenager.

Right. Self-delusion has always been one of my biggest faults.

I found her in the living room sitting perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch, hunched over her knees with arms crossed across her chest and almost huddled in on herself. The pose made her look more like a scared little girl than the competent federal agent I knew she really was, and the image caused a pang in the vicinity of my heart. Then my spine stiffened; was she doing that deliberately to make me feel sorry for her? It wasn’t going to work.

I all but slammed the beer bottle on the table in front of her, causing her to jump, grabbing mine and taking a long swig. “So what’s on your mind, Scully?” I said snidely, perching on the short end of the coffee table in front of the couch but turned to face her, only a foot or so away from her knees. “Or are you going to make me keep guessing?”

She now sat upright, staring at me with narrowed eyes. “Go to hell, Mulder,” she snapped, getting to her feet and moving away around the other side of the table towards my desk. “I came over to talk, not fight, and I’ll be damned if I’m doing this with you now.”

Nice choice of words.

I got up as well and moved to block her escape with my body, still holding my beer. “I think you are. We need to get this out in the open, Scully, or one of us may as well put in a transfer request first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, and who would that be? Like you’d leave your precious X-Files to me,” she snapped, hands on hips as she glared up at me. Then she reached down and grabbed the bottle I’d set down for her, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink of her own. She stifled a low belch with the back of her hand, still glaring at me. With her hair tucked behind her ears to show the scrapes on her face reminding me of her near-miss only a few days ago, I felt another pang, this one in my belly, which I set my jaw against and tried to ignore.

Jesus you are magnificent, woman.

“You’re the only person I’d trust them to, but yeah, you’re right, I won’t leave them voluntarily,” I said. “So where would you go, Scully? Back to teaching at Quantico, or request a transfer to someplace where you don’t ever have to see me again, like oh, say, San Diego?”

“Maybe,” she gritted out and then took another swig. “Right now that sounds damned attractive.”

And so are you, God help me.

“You can’t face what you feel for me, can you?” I snapped. “You said it earlier, Scully. You said, and I quote, ‘I'm angry with myself... I'm angry that I let you take control of me when I don't want you to. I'm angry because I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I'm angry at what I feel for you, Mulder.’ But you won’t admit to yourself, much less tell me, what it is that you feel for me.”

She flushed a dull red and looked away.

“Why did you come over here, Scully? To talk…or to take things to the next level with us? Whether or not you want to admit it, you know that’s where we’re going,” I said, lowering my voice and taking a step closer. “Unless you look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want this.”

She stared defiantly up at me, her nostrils flaring, but she didn’t retreat; we were now less than a foot apart, glaring into each other’s faces. The electricity between us was razor-sharp, breathless; anything and everything could happen in the next few seconds. “Mulder…” she said, almost breathlessly low, but as I moved closer her eyelids fell to half-mast, cheeks flushed and breathing fast and ragged, her quickening breath causing her breasts to heave beneath the strict charcoal cloth. She was an aroused woman if ever I had seen one, and we both knew it. Never before in my life had I received such mixed signals; her body was urging me on, yet the glare she was throwing at me was quite intimidating. If I could have been intimidated, that was.

“Tell me no. Tell me to stop. Tell me that you don’t want me to kiss you again right now,” I rasped, almost not recognizing my voice as I hovered over her. “I won’t if you tell me not to.”

I set my mostly-empty bottle down on the table and reached out and took hers, setting it beside mine with no resistance on her part. Then I stepped forward so that our bodies were just barely touching, arms at my sides, staring down into her upturned face. “Say it, Scully,” I whispered, feeling us teetering on the brink. The razor’s edge.

“I… I can’t,” she breathed, her eyes going from defiant to defeated as I watched—no, not defeated, but yielding. To me.

Oh, God.

I snapped. Everything I felt for her, all the years of longing as well as the admiration, the frustration, the fear for and of her, everything came rushing up. I grabbed her again, this time by the upper arms, and kissed her with everything I was feeling. The last time I hadn’t let it last long enough to see if she responded or not, but this time I did—and did she!

The next thing I knew we were pressed tightly together from chest to hip; I had one hand cupped around the back of her head and the other arm tightly around her shoulders. Scully’s arms were around my waist, hands pressed flat to my back just below my shoulder blades, holding me as tightly to her as I was her to me. 

I lost myself in the sweetness of her mouth, her tongue meeting mine and causing another jolt in the pit of my belly. She tasted like the beer we’d drunk with overtones of pure Scully, the scent of the woman I’d been inhaling the last four years. After the first rush of adrenaline I slowed down, no longer ravaging her mouth but feeling every contour of it, tasting her thoroughly, reveling in every moment. I couldn’t get enough of her and moved my hand to slide it around the back of her neck under her hair, wanting to feel her soft warm skin, and I both felt and heard her moan softly into my mouth.

It was almost too much, that little noise on top of all the physical sensations that were beginning to overwhelm me. I’d never been this aroused in my life; I wanted her with an intensity and fierceness that almost scared me.

Breaking the kiss gently, I nibbled my way along her jaw to her earlobe, sucking and lipping at the petal-soft skin. She threw her head back and heaved a long breath, her lower body rubbing achingly against mine as she shifted her weight. “Oh, God, Mulder, what are you doing to me?” she sighed, rolling her head to the side as I reached her ear, swirled my tongue around the outside whorls, and then started down her neck, fully intending to go as low as she’d let me.

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I breathed, then traced her carotid artery with my tongue to the base of her throat. I kissed and licked the tiny dip there, feeling her pulse beating double-time in tandem with mine. I was nearly bent in half but barely noticed as I moved my hands to slide down her back towards her ass, intending to press her even tighter against me. “I need you Scully, I want to make love to—“

Then she tore away from me and I nearly fell as I overbalanced without her there, stumbling forward a step or two before I caught myself. I straightened and stared at her, baffled, and barely had time to register her arm drawing back with just enough time to duck slightly before my head was ringing and my vision swimming. The side of my face was on fire but I knew it could have been worse; at least I’d had a moment to move partly out of her way. Had she fully connected I suspected I’d have been on the floor. “What in the hell, Scully?” I yelled, holding my stinging jaw.

“You think you can just grab me and I’ll hop into your bed without a care in the world? You’re sadly mistaken, Mulder.” She stood leaning back against my desk, hands braced half-behind her on the top near her hips. Her chest was heaving, lipstick smeared, and her cheeks and the top of her chest flushed between the white V of her blouse.

She was spectacular. I’d never seen a more beautiful woman in all of my life.

“Why is it a problem that I want to make love with you, Scully?” I said, trying to sound reasonable when my blood was still boiling in more ways than one, rubbing my jaw slightly as the pain began to fade. It dampened my arousal not at all; in fact if anything else the slap seemed to ratchet it up substantially because I knew she’d lashed out from fear of what was about to happen between us. Not might, was going to happen and we both knew it. “Is it because I have the audacity to treat you like the beautiful, desirable woman you are, not buying into the ice queen persona that you show to most of the world? I can see beneath that, Scully; you’ve let me in and it‘s far too late to close that door,” I told her, watching her face closely. “Tell me you don’t want to be with me, too, and I’ll leave you alone, never touch you again. You can go home to your lonely bed and this will never be mentioned again. Just say it.”

She stared back at me with wide blue eyes, those gorgeous, swollen rosebud lips parted and shiny more from our riotous kiss than what was left of her lipstick. I folded my arms across my chest and raised my brows at her. She opened her mouth, closed it, frowned slightly, heaved a deep sigh and then bit her full lower lip just slightly, her gaze never leaving mine. In her eyes I saw the battle raging and I waited, patiently for once; this was something that she and she alone had to decide.  
Then almost before I knew it she was in my arms, that soft yet lithe body pressed to mine again, her mouth hot, demanding, wildly passionate. I could feel the press of each breast through the layers of material separating us, and her taut belly pushed frankly back against my erection as I wrapped my arms around her in return. When her hands slid down to cup and squeeze my ass, causing me to buck against her and both of us to moan into the other’s mouth, I knew we were lost. Even if she smacked me again this was worth it, but I didn’t think she would. I was fairly certain that the first time had just been a flash of fear over what she knew was coming, her token resistance. Now she had fully capitulated by coming to me.

For the first time in years I bemoaned my lack of a bed, but that certainly wasn’t going to stop me, not with a willing, passionate woman in my arms. We stumbled our way around the coffee table, stripping clothes off of each other—and ourselves when the need arose—without breaking the kiss other than long enough to tug a shirt off over one of our heads. I heard something shatter when Scully enthusiastically kicked off her shoes, but I could have cared less.

If I thought kissing her was an amazing moment of my life, touching her naked breasts took it to a new level. By that time we were both more or less unclothed with me sitting on the couch and Scully straddling my lap. We were still kissing frantically, heads turning back and forth, mouths slanting against each other, bumping noses, her hands running over my chest with my arms around her waist when it hit my arousal-dazed brain that I could finally touch those full round breasts that I’d been eyeballing since the moment she’d walked up to me so confidently all those years ago. I slid my hands up her stomach from her waist and cupped her breasts, sucking in my breath at the feeling of them in my hands at last; they were larger than they often seemed in her severe suits, heavier than I thought they’d be, and absolutely perfect in every way I could think of. Her dark pink nipples were already hard little nubs, and when I gently ran my fingers over them it was her turn to suck in her breath, releasing it into my mouth with a soft moan as her hands moved up to my shoulders.

“I need you, Mulder, I want to make love with you,” she breathed against my lips, and for a moment my head swam and I was afraid that I might pass out. For all my audacious confidence and pestering her until we came to this, I suddenly felt like a green, uncertain teenage boy who held the woman of my dreams in my arms but was almost afraid to go any further. Then she reached down and took hold of my straining cock, which was standing up between our bodies, and ran her fingers over the sensitive tip. I sucked in my breath and all thoughts of any kind flew out of my head; it felt so good I could have died content at that moment. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Neither do I,” I managed to utter against her mouth, moving my hands down to her hips as she rose up and angled my cock toward her. But before she could do much more than that, I reached down and explored her labia gently with the fingers of one hand, rubbing her softly and dipping a finger into her tight, wet canal to make sure she was ready for me. That worry was immediately swept away as the walls of her vagina contracted around my finger and I felt drops of wetness run down my hand. She was as ready for me as I was for her; I was amazed that I did this to her but not in any mood to question it. “I need you too, Scully, more than you can ever know.”

Instead of answering she slid one leg back, bracing it on the floor and lifting her body, leaving her other knee on the black leather next to me. I looked down to see her moving my cock between her legs, watching it disappear beneath the small thatch of cinnamon curls.

“Wait—” I breathed, “Shouldn’t we, uh, use some kind of, ah, protection—” I had no idea if I still had a condom around here after so many years without a partner, but knew it was the right thing to mention it and, if she agreed, risk stopping to do so. 

“I’m on the pill,” she said, equally breathy. “And I know we’re both clean since I’m your doctor. Unless you don’t want to risk it.”

“I trust you,” I said quietly but clearly, my words falling like raindrops into a still pond. Then I felt myself beginning to enter her damp tightness and my heart leapt in my chest. I pulled her against me, wrapping both arms around her body as she moved her other leg back up onto the couch, sinking down on me. We were chest to chest, belly to belly. 

“Ohhh Mulder,” she exhaled softly against my neck, ducking her forehead against my collarbone. “Jesus, oh God, you feel so good.” 

Despite my size I was sliding up into her unhindered; slowly but steadily her body was accepting, no, welcoming me. Finally I was deep inside her, her bottom resting on my upper thighs, and I urged her back to look at me. Her eyes were half-lidded, soft, unfocused; I was sure mine were the same. All I could utter was, “Ah, Scully,” then I took her face in my hands and kissed her with everything I was feeling yet again, sucking her lower lip into my mouth and gently nibbling on it, suckling her tongue, caressing her lips with mine gently before deepening the kiss again.

She began to ride me, lifting her body up and down with her strong legs, hands clutching my shoulders, not breaking the kiss. We cried out into each other’s mouth with the first stroke; from then on it was a nearly constant stream of moans and groans and unintelligible love-words breathed against the other’s lips. After a time she slowed, and through the erotic haze I realized that her legs were probably tiring. I lifted her up by the bottom, scooted forward a little, and muttered against her lips, “Put your legs around me,” and when she did so, I pulled my legs up so that they were crossed lotus-style behind her. Wrapping my arms around her slender waist, I rocked her onto me as I thrust up and she let out a startled gasp before capturing my mouth with hers again, and no more thought was given to anything other than the intense, astonishing pleasure we were giving each other.

But even as we made love—our bodies pressed tightly together and gasping into the other’s mouths as our lips couldn’t seem to part—there was a sense of sadness, of melancholy, about us. I held her like the love of my life she was, almost desperately, and felt her hands running over the skin of my shoulders, arms, and back as if she’d never have the chance again. I wanted it to last forever but it seemed far too soon when she changed her strokes, rubbing up against me rather than moving back and forth, and I felt her inner muscles contract deliciously. “Oh, Mulder, oh, God,” she gasped as she tore her mouth away from mine and ducked her face into my neck, her whole body shuddering. Realizing that she had finished, my body reacted predictably and, as much as I wanted to hold off, I was helpless to stop my own orgasm.

As I came down from the euphoria, I realized I was breathlessly chanting her name and let it trail off into an unintelligible moan as I let my forehead fall to her shoulder. We rested together, panting, and I found myself wishing that I would never go soft, that I would stay hard inside her so that she wouldn’t leave. 

When our breathing had returned to normal some time later, she lifted herself carefully off of me as I reluctantly let go of her, then got up from the couch and, without looking at anything but what she was doing, gathered up her scattered clothes and walked off towards the bathroom. I uncurled my legs and sat on the edge of the couch, head in hands and elbows on knees, staring down at my jeans crumpled beneath my feet. My wish hadn’t come true; my flaccid penis, shiny with our combined juices, hung down between my legs and I halfheartedly cursed its inevitable betrayal. 

When I heard the running water in the bathroom stop, I got up and tugged on my boxers and jeans, leaving them half-zipped, and didn’t bother with a shirt; I wasn’t going anywhere. When she came back into the living room, fully dressed except for her shoes and stockings, I was sitting calmly on the couch, sipping at my now-warm beer.

“Mulder, I—” she began, stopping a few feet away and looking down at her bare feet.

She couldn’t meet my eyes and I knew what that meant: regret, remorse, guilt. I felt myself abruptly transition from the languorous afterglow of incredible lovemaking to my more usual and comfortable depression. “You don’t even have to say it,” I told her tiredly, not caring that I’d interrupted her despite knowing how much she hates it. Nor was I going to try and get her to look at me like I’d done earlier; if she couldn’t do it on her own, I wouldn’t force her. “I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow morning at the office, right?”

To my surprise she came over and sat next to me, stepping over my legs, not quite touching. “I was going to say,” she continued in a stern-enough voice to shut me up, “that we should talk about this, but it would appear that you’re not interested in that.” 

No, I’d rather hold you all night.

“I don’t see what there is to talk about,” I said bitterly. I knew I could have reached out to her and made everything right, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Who was she to be demanding comfort from me? I was the one with the most to lose here: my partner, best friend, and the love of my life all in one fell swoop if I did the wrong thing now. And I knew damned good and well that she didn’t want a romantic relationship with me; if I hadn’t pushed her past the point of no return, she never would have done the horizontal—well, vertical—bop with me. Most of the time I felt that she barely put up with me on a personal level anyhow. “I know damn well that we’re just going to pretend like this never happened. God forbid we let those annoying emotions out.”

I could feel her eyes boring into me but now I refused to meet them, instead studying the bottle in my hands.

“If that’s the way you want it, Mulder,” she said, her tone flat. “I was afraid this would happen if we saw each other tonight; I was just going to let myself in and leave you a note. Now… well, never mind.”

“This? You mean us making—having sex, or this delightful afterward?” 

Delightful would be curled around you as we doze off together. Tell me you want to stay, Scully.

She heaved a sigh and reached down to pick up her stockings, stuffing them in the pocket of her blazer, then slid her feet into her shoes. “All of it,” she said flatly as she stood up. “Regardless, we’ll do it your way, Mulder. Fine. This evening never happened, and we’ll never mention it again. We’ll go back to the old status quo; I don’t need to sort my life out any further, I guess. I just need to remember that it’s always about you, not what I want.”

I sat there and listened as my front door closed behind her. So she did want it this way; I’d been right in thinking that she didn’t care for me as anything more than a partner and, perhaps if I was lucky, a friend. I would never forget our too-brief tryst, would treasure this couch for being where it happened, but honor her wishes and never bring it up again.

So here I sat, alone again, sipping a disgustingly warm beer in my empty apartment; it was like the past hour had never happened except for her bottle still sitting on the end of the coffee table. I thought about taking a shower—God knew I needed one—but between sheer apathy and not wanting to wash her from my body, I stayed put. I would have to clean up before I went to sleep tonight but, until then, I wanted her scent to linger on my skin.

I picked up the TV remote and flicked the tube on, letting myself flop back against the cool leather of the couch as I heaved a sigh. Perhaps our lives were entangled, intertwined beyond what was good for either of us, but at least I wouldn’t fuck hers up by being intimately involved in it ever again.

Just like she wanted.

finis


End file.
